The Grimacer's Music

Sorry, just another piece of writing from me! This was a true story. More regular blog pictures to come soon!

The Grimacer’s Music

I walked into his room and despite myself I jumped back. I was scared. This man’s face was contorted into a feral grimace. Teeth were bared. Nose was wrinkled. I jumped back because I first saw these things. I stayed because beneath this mask I saw kindness in his eyes. The kindness was unmistakable.  Embarrassed by my behavior I said Hi. This man was unabashed. He immediately explained why his face was contorted into the Grimace. He was born this way. He had a loving mother. He was told by some to choose a career that would keep nicely tucked into a cubicle of solitude. He took their advice and did accounting and hated it, for he loves people. He went back to school and became a social worker. He married and had children. He helped youth on the streets. He helped me. He showed me that no matter what your circumstances, you can choose your own path. He showed me that no matter how ugly (no pun intended) life seems to be it can be beautiful.

                He first gave me the gift of his story, and then the gift of his music. He took out his old accordion and asked to play a few hymns for me. I was concerned looking at the accordion wondering what type of old geezer music it would produce. I was surprised. From that accordion came the most beautiful and transfixing hymns I have ever heard. The music put me in a peaceful trance. The man’s face remained in its ever permanent grimace throughout the renditions, but I was happy that he had given me the chance to see a glimpse of his exquisite soul. If you ever get a chance to meet the Grimacer, ask him to tell you a story or two and you might get lucky enough to hear his music.

The Lights

Let me preface this post with an explanation: I have been reading The Book Thief  and LOVE it! Finally another novel I can become totally immersed in and learn a thing or too also! It's about a German girl living in Nazi Germany and the prose is so fun to read. So how does this offer an explanation for this post? The narrator of the The Book Thief is death itself. Sounds odd but it works out wonderfully in the book. Anyways, I had the opportunity to ponder death from working as a nurse in pediatric oncology. Sometimes it was tough to internalize what was happening at work so I would write my thoughts down.  

The Lights

                Sometimes I look at humans as different lights, each shining to their own intensity. Some are like a low burning ember, steady through the night. Some like a bright intense firework, with a load quick boom burnt out as quickly as ignited. Each is beautiful in its own kind, each tragic in its own kind.  Rhoda was the firework kind.  She made her presence known with a deafening boom. Her light burned your eyes and she was gone as quickly as she came. Her silhouette still burned in your vision as the smoke fell from her existence. She was either loving you or hating you. She threw herself haphazardly in loves path, ending up pregnant at 14. Just as haphazard as she was to life, life was to her. Four months into her pregnancy she found out she had leukemia. Despite the leukemia and the sometimes debilitating treatment she evaded the despair that often comes on cancer’s turf and lived her life as loudly as she wanted. A risk here, a party here, a fight with her boyfriend but always reconciling again. A shout and a curse at me when I made her go on walks, but a tear later, a hug, and the same trust she had in me from the beginning. That is how I remember her. Out of everything she could have died from, she died from her own fire.  She was snuffed out on her own terms with a deafening boom. She died partying. Her heart kept beating furiously until it could beat no more. It’s a shame she died from street drugs, after all the poison we gave her. At least she had her choice, and I think she would be OK with her pick.

                Then there’s the slow embers type. The kind that just never knows when to give up. They start off as a deep steady glow and then a twitch of light here and there, and then a peaceful darkness. I can see them in their beds at the nursing homes I would visit when I was still deciding what type of light I would be. I help on to their embers, and they help onto the fuel I gave them to keep glowing. Their lights would stir when I came in the room. It flickered beautifully as they told me of days when they were strong embers. At first I wondered why they didn’t just let go. It seemed easier to me. But these lights enjoyed savoring their ember years. They turned those memories over in their minds; they spit them out at anyone who would listen. I remember one in particular. She was quite the flickering coal, growing dark with Alzheimer’s. She sat in her wheelchair in the hallway cursing at me whenever I passed by. That was the flickering part. I think she must have been German by that mouth of hers. She was growing cold but had spark enough to curse. Despite her going cold I felt her warmth once when I sat next to her. Instead of a flicker of curses I received the warm embrace of her hand and a “I love you.” It was then that I came to understand why these lights hang on for so long…..love……and they want to keep giving it.

Cory's Graduation!

I'm taking a break from packing to work on our blog. Do you like the makeover it received? Cory was the tech guy and I was the creative genius. I don't know how Cory can figure out how to write websites, but I guess it explains why he'll be working for Intel! On April 20 Bette, Kyle and I went to Cory's graduation to support and cheer for him. We are all so proud of him! He accomplished much in the program, including working with the Graduate Finance Association, winning the Utah's ACG cup and placing second in the the national Wharton LBO competition.

 This is the infamous Tanner building in which Cory spent numerous hours studying. I'm jealous of his space though! When I studied on campus I was either crammed in some nook of the Harold B. Lee library or the basement of the Kimball tower. I wish I thought of studying here!

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 After the graduation we spent some time taking pictures of our Alma Mater so we can proudly show our children someday. We will miss you BYU!

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